Boss Romano and Teenaged Spain
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: Role reversal yaoi, in which Spain is the younger of the two. PWP, spamanao, DL;DR. Kind of a 'relearn how to write' fic, to get me back into the rhythm of things again. ONESHOT, M for a reason. Short.
1. Chapter 1

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**~Big Boss Romano and Teenaged Spain~  
><strong>A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction * Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011_  
>SpainxRomano *<em>**R18***  
>ROLE REVERSAL~PEDONESSUNDERAGE SEX~ORAL~PLAYFUL TALK~MASTERBATION  
>…<em><br>Hey everyone, its just me.. I just wanted to apologise to you all for the crappy quality of my stories and lack of new fics lately. Its just ive been feeling pretty crap about my life for the past month or so, about my drawing and writing and blach blah blah, and kind of upset because I set myself such impossibly hig__h standards, and compare myself to others, even though I know I will never be so good, or so popular, or so confident as a lot of the people I aspire to beat. I guess I just have too much to prove to still be a nobody, and am too much oa a nobody to do anything about that, and it's a viscious circle that's all very upsetting and distressing and getting me down. Its something I guess I just have to work through, and on account of this lately my writing has suffered, my creativity and motivation have been nul, and I think its about time I got my act together and ficxed that. So without further ado, I present to you all a very brief little spamano filled with clichés and shoddy plot devices, in an attempt to re-learn my way around a pen. Thanks again, please enjoy. : )_

…

He was a dead-weight.

Really he was.

Why did I even keep him around? Everything he did with the best intentions possible, and yet somehow since he arrived my house has been even messier, my mood considerably worse.

It's just horribly unfortunate, I suppose, that I have such a thing for green eyes.

"Boss?" Antonio poked his head around the column, his hair was getting long, I should probably cut it but the satiny curls were sort of cute in a homeless urchin kind of a way. He had it tied back with a chord that I don't remember giving him and sure as hell better not be a tie from any of my pants, and slung over one this shoulder. His sun hat was frayed around the brim and obviously not working, because his cute button nose was burned on the bridge. A dab of read staining caramel bonze skin and promising dark freckles, come winter.

"What is it?" I scowled and reached for my fan on the low table, beside the wicker throne on my balcony.

"I um... was just wondering. All the wheat is planted right?"

I nodded, rather than looking at him I fixed my eyes on the horizon instead, and the rolling hills bowing before me boasting grape vines and cypresses, sunflowers lifting their faces to the sky and down in the valley, the village, where the markets would soon be bustling. The evening (it was too hot to do anything during the daytime,) was wine coloured, the air thick and sweet. Crickets chirped, mosquitoes were starting to buzz. He was sweating, through the thin cloth of his cotton shirt.

"Well, seeing as there are still a few empty places on the property, I was just wondering... maybe you would like me to plant some tomatoes there?"

I narrowed my eyes and fanned myself a little harder.

"But we already have tomatoes. We don't need more.

He laughed softly and scratched his head.

"Not those kinds of tomatoes, sir. Spanish tomatoes." His bright grin made me uncomfortable.

"What's the difference?" I mumbled, and he slipped off his had, stepping into the shade and immediately entering the circle of personal space I preferred Antonio free at all times.

"Spanish tomatoes are bigger and sweeter. You will love them, I promise. It's to say thank you, for watching over me for all these years. I will always appreciate it."

I pulled a face and tried not to squirm. He will always appreciate it, I will never get used to it. Though I've cared fro him since he was four or five, every day I woke up and saw Antonio Carriedo was like waking up with a stranger in my house. And now, at fifteen, I swore he was getting less and less familiar. Less helpful, too. A lot more absent minded and carefree.

But it was his eyes, goddamnit. I was a sucker for his eyes.

"Fine," I grumbled. "but you're taking care of them."

"I take care of all the plants here anyway." His smile widened and I scowled, gesturing to the pitcher of wine on the low table beside me.

"Whatever bastard. Are you finished? Do you want a drink?"

"Huh? Oh." He laughed easily and swung on the balcony post, his arm muscles flexing smoothly beneath sweaty, delectably tanned skin. "Yah, please, lets me just water the grapes." He hopped back off the stairs and ruffled the leaves of the vines that coiled and crawled over the banister of the veranda. "Is there still water around the back?"

"Mm." I lifted the pitcher and took a drink from it myself, the sharp flavour of the wine not dusty with age yet, as it was only five or so years old. It did, however possess a strange spiciness I could only describe as Antonio, and the knowledge that it was a youthful, clingy, over-excitable Spain who had made it left me feeling rather as though I had just taken a part of him into my body, like I was drinking Antonio…

No, that was stupid!

I set the wine down and wiped the remaining beads off my lips with the back of my fan-clutching hand. Somewhere far out in the valley, a dog barked.

Antonio was quick with the water, returning with a bucketful in hand and stepping up onto the steps again, to pour it down onto the vine from above. I tilted my head to the side, observing his ass in slipping, coarse wool trousers. God he had a great ass… unlike any other ass I had ever seen, on human or nation. It was firm looking and shapely, I found myself licking my lips when he leaned over, plucking a small bunch of ripe grapes from the vine and stumbling, almost tripping right over the banister and landing in a heap below. The bucket of water resting on the rail rattled, I sat up in shock, having to tear my eyes from his backside to watch the bucket fall backward in slow motion, drenching him and earning a loud yelp of surprise.

"Oh dios," arms held awkwardly he turned to face me, clearly highly amused by the whole affair.

His tunic was dark with dampness, describing soft ripples of pubescent muscle and a heavy rosary against his firm chest. The coldness pricked his nipples, and laughing, he smoothed his hands over the hem as if doing so would ease the wetness there away.

"Merde," he swore lightly, tugging on the wet item and lifting it up in preparation to pull it over his head. "Now I have to find a new shirt, you don't have one I could borrow do you?"

"I uh…" I stared at the peek of exposed stomach, smooth caramel gold skin, the snails trail of hair pathing from taught stomach button to the hem of his short trousers. "My clothes won't fit you any more, you're too big…"

"Ah, you're right." He schlicked his top right off and cast it carelessly over the wooden bench. "Oh well, no problem. It's not too cold today." He sniffed and scratched his upper lip thoughtfully, head turning to check if any of the water had gone over the other side too, and watered the vines like he had intended.

"argh… now I have to get another bucket." He pulled a face. "There are no more around the back, I'll have to walk to the pump and… Lovi, are you okay?"

I jumped at the slip of his tongue, both shocked at whatever he had just called me and embarrassed about being caught staring at his stomach.

"What?" astonished, I stared at him. "What did you just call me?"

He pinched his eyebrows together and regarded me for a moment. "Lovi… sorry, it slipped out." His hand flitted over his stomach, almost as though he was unable to decide if he wanted me to look at it of if he wanted me to look away. "Are you okay? You look a little… dozy."

"I'm fine!" my face though, I could feel it taking on that humiliating red colouration. "What makes you think I wouldn't be? Stop looking at me like that!"

Like that, with faintly worried eccentric green eyes and full smooth lips tucked between perfect white teeth.

"Ah… right." He turned away and clattered back down the low stairs, grabbing the bucket with resolution to acquire more water. "I guess I will be back in twenty minutes."

I nodded, rubbing my mouth shyly, heart hammering. He cast one last concerned look my way before disappearing across the small yard and through the little fence, down the side of the hill, to pump water.

…

"_I want you so much right now."_

_I stirred from sleep, his voice purring across my neck to the root of my ear. The first thing I smelt was his hair, dusky and sweet in an earthy kind of way, and the first thing I felt was the warmth in my hand, the rigid guiding of my fingers across planes that were unfamiliar, and warm. "Wake up boss… this is no time to sleep…"_

"_Antonio!"_

_Needless to say, I was several shades of surprised, with a bit of horrified and disbelieving thrown in. "What do you think you are doing?"_

_He tumbled backward on my bed, the wooden slats creaking, chuckling softly. The bastard had lit my bedside candelabra while I was asleep, and by the surprisingly vivid light, I could see he was below the waist naked, his loose tunic hanging handsomely of a bronzed, youthful frame. _

"_Seducing my boss, of course." He grinned and shuffled back toward me, despite the shaking hand I shoved forward to push him away._

"_Oh no you are not!" instinctively crossing my legs, I tried to think of something. A threat I could make, something I could say to make him back off… _

"_Why not? Don't you want me?" his head tilted to the side coyly, the faintest of shy smiles made my toes curl in the bed sheets. Slowly, stealthily he advanced, my heart bounced._

"_Well?" somehow, his face was right by mine by this point. "Do you? Don't you?"_

"_W__hy-"_

"_S__sh." He pressed his finger to my lips and I shivered. "Boss…"_

"… _Antonio." _

"_Can I kiss you?" _

_Well, I did not have a single clue as to where it had come from, wether he was acting on his own free will or if it was an action influenced by whatever signals I had been sending. Maybe it was both, maybe it was a figment of my overactive imagination, but I was pretty sure that um, Antonio Carriedo, my ward and the steadily strengthening nation of Spain, had just asked me to kiss him._

_Oh, who was I kidding. I wanted this so badly. _

_He squeaked quietly in surprise when I grabbed the sides of his face and jerked him forward, once he got the idea, it was fine for me to slump against the head board, arms wide either side and allowing him to plunge his tongue inside my mouth. _

_Fuck Antonio's mouth! It was warm and confident, tasting ever so subtly like the garlicy tomato soup he had made for dinner that evening, and with the satin of dessert wine lingering on the back of his teeth was sweet and spine melting. It was good. It was so good. Better than I had ever dreamed. I whined, breathless, and tilted my chin to pull my mouth away. Not a problem though, his lips found a swift attachment to my jaw, my throat, the side of my neck beside the lobe of my ear. His teeth caught the shell, I felt the fabric of capillaries beneath my skin flood with heat and sensitivity, his one hand slid over my bare chest, playing with my collarbone._

"_I didn't know you slept naked…."_

"_I-I__ts to h-ot…"_

"_Not as hot as you boss…" his kisses descended down my breastbone, fingers savouring every notch of rib. "It could never be as hot as you." He reached my belly and pushed the sheet still partially covering me down my thighs. _

_I was… a little afraid of having him see me naked. After all, he was young and handsome, I was a petite and quasi –old in comparison. My body wasn't in the best shape, I was kind of on the small side (I was not a tall man, alright?) and well, having him so close to me had bunched my balls up a little, and hardened my cock not so that it was ragingly erect but enough for it to be visible, and not quite small enough to fit in his mouth. _

_Again with__ that incredible mouth!_

_He dipped his lips eagerly over the crown and sucked, light at first, enough to startle me, and send my hands flying to knot in his hair. He had soft hair, I thought abstractly through the haze of lust. Very oft, fragrant with whatever he used to wash it, and dark. So dark. _

"_Ahh…" h__is tongue traced the sides of it, his eyes lifting to my face briefly and maybe lingering I couldn't tell because I looked away, unable to take seeing the low sparkle in dilated pupils. Bit by bit he drew it out, kissing and teasing, the crude sucking sounds prickling the hairs on the back of my neck. I petted his hair, head tipping back, helpless and hot and fuck yes. I wanted him more._

_Cautiously. Holding my hips, he pulled me down the bed and not stopping once with his sucking ran both hands along the v between my thighs. His thumbs ghosted my testicles, and that was a totally new, extremely gratifying thing to do, and he picked up on that because in a flash he was rolling them, squeezing them, making me lift my hips off the mattress and moan. He held them gently and squeezed them together, moving off my dick for a moment to take one, the whole left, into his mouth. His teeth grazed at the loose skin and it tingled, my erection complained heavily of its loss of stimulation but his hand was happy to attend, flat palm pushing it up against my stomach in long patting motions, like one strokes a cat. Precum and saliva pattered on my stomach, I wiggled and he released my testicle only to kiss and nibble the other. I was convinced, by this point, my heart was not going to take this. That I was going to die here, in this bed, with his tongue crawling slowly from my balls back up the back of my dick. His tongue flicked up and he enveloped the head underneath, I shuddered. It was a strange sensation, feeling smoother and slipperier than the surface, and strung to the bottom of his mouth by a thin tie of pulsing flesh. Even stranger were the heals of his palms pressing upward, his nails scratching my chest and his hands groping imaginary breasts. My nipples beneath his palms tickled and like my cock throbbed when he paid them no attention. It wasn't fair of him, to play such dirty things as this, and gasping I told him this as he kissed his way back up my side to my mouth. When he got there, it was open, babbling a nonsensical complaint, and he kissed me as he straddled my chest, jerking my head up and pressing his own dick, curtained by his shirt, to my lips. _

"_Suck my dick, Boss."_

_It was a big one, and it was__ firm with blood, pulsing with its own little heartbeat against my mouth. Though I had little experience in the field of sucking cocks, I, with little hesitation, obliged and couldn't have been doing too bad a job, because he hissed softly, pleased, when my lips touched the neck of his shaft. _

"_That's good, just do what I did and you will be fine."_

_This was easier said than done, I was not so nimble with my mouth. But he was patient enough to a point, curling my hair with his fingers and rubbing the shells of my ears. The first hesitant few seconds of just licking and adjusting to the alien flavour of him made me dizzy with lust, every soft 'oh,' and 'ah' that accidentally slipped from his lips encouraged me, and I carried on, eager, convicted to the cause._

_As if he knew the effect he pinched my curl and coiled it tightly around his finger. When I sighed, he loosed a small amount of strongly bitter precum onto my tongue. His testes tapped against my collar bone as I bobbed my head, I held his hips, and with the guidance of his hands moving my head swiftly and shallowly over his cock I was stable, able to indulge and sigh and work myself up, into a state where I pulled my lips from his length and went to ask him to come on my face. God I wanted his come on my face. The warm stickiness, heavy on my skin and tasting like Antonio. My Antonio. Even the fragrance of his precum made my skin crawl and tingle. _

_But before I could ask, he asked me something else._

"_Suck on my balls." He pushed me down tenderly, not so gentle as to be guiding me but not so hard as to shove. "I can do this." His hand seized his dick and began to pump. If I had given it a second, and actually looked at his firm, slightly furred but otherwise pleasant testes, I would have double thought. I'm glad I did not. _

_It was weird, having them in my mouth. The skin was loose and like his erection a little salty, but it was soft, and he seemed to just liquefy above me when I did it, panting heavily, fisting his cock and making the filthiest noises I had ever heard. I wondered briefly how it was even possible for a fifteen year old to be able to make such noises, but that thought didn't linger long. Because suddenly he had moved, pulling back from me and extracting his sack from my mouth with a pop. I squirmed down the bed, and wiped my mouth discreetly. _

"_It's okay." He kissed the missed spots away. "I will clean everything up when we are done." His gruff voice and heavy breath was the only indicator he was aroused. Facially, he was perfectly composed. Eyes halfcast, smiling neatly. There wasn't even a sheen of sweat on his forehead, where as I was positively slippery with it. "But I need you to cum so I have something to stretch you with."_

"_Huh?" weak, I arched my chest and ground against him, burying my face against his deliciously fragrant neck. Tender kisses to the side of my head, his hand slithered between us and swiftly, fiercely, he began jacking me off. _

_So I came. _

_It was not just an orgasm, it was a release. A relief. It was like every painful year of having him in his home had suddenly paid off in one wild sweep of unanticipated body wide contractions and shivers. He caught every last drop in his hand, and before I was even properly done I felt him rubbing, stroking wet semen into my body. His finger dipped in fine enough, and he seemed pleasantly surprised._

"_You touch yourself here, don't you?"_

_Before I could answer though, he hand his slippery finger all the way in, his tongue pressed inside my mouth and him body squashed firmly against my own._

_Spain…_

_Everything in that moment, everything about me and around me and against me was Spain. The taste of him, the feel of him. His perfume. Tomatoes and earth and sweat. The sensation of bare chest to bare chest, skin sliding over lubricated skin and him inside of me, prying around, pushing me open and nudging until a specific spot is located, rubbed around with the pad of his finger until I'm gasping and begging him to stop. _

"_What's wrong? Does it feel bad?"_

"_No, I just…" I shook my head and kissed his throat, conflicted. I wanted him to be able to read my mind, rather than have to say it out loud, but I feared that if he could, he would be able to see everything inside me. All the horrible dirty fantasies I had of him fucking me, ploughing me, claiming me completely. Every filthy position I had fantasized him screwing me in floated to the top of my mind and I clenched around his finger. _

"_You want me to fuck you?"_

"_Yeah…"_

"_Open your legs, I want to get another finger in there first." He leant back and wrenched open my thighs. _

"_No… no more fingers…"_

"_What, do you want me to fuck you now?" he smiled a little and removed his finger, rubbing insteed around the spot, stroking in little teasing circles. I could feel it twitching, hungry._

"_Do you think you are ready for- okay..." he saw me nodding ferociously, and gave me a scandalous little wink. I gave in to a deep moan of want, pulled from all the way in the base of my stomach, when he nudged his erection into place, sliding it back and forth over the dip there untill I hissed, warning him ineffectually that he had better fucking do it or else. _

_Sighing, he lifted my hips, hands rolling over my ass cheeks and pushing them open. I loved the way my flesh yeilded beneeth the strength in his palms, it spiraled firery licks of passionate flame all the way up my back and I arched, whining when he poped his head in, giving me a sample of what was to come._

"_Wow, it goes in easy." he pulled out again, rolling off and inviting me on top. "I'm impressed..."_

"_Shut up!" I let him pull me onto his lap and reach down to line us up. Once he had the tip in again, I actually siezed him, to stop him from making any undesired moves. _

"_You neednt squeeze it." he laughed, easing my hand off and taking my hips down with insistant little pulls. "It's not going anywhere, I want to be inside of you right now."_

_And with that thought in my mind, he impaled me, hands sliding up the sides of my body to my shoulders, rubbing them deeply and letting me take control. As expected, he was vocal in bed, moaning and sighing a lot, but I didnt pay it any attention, too busy listening to my own struggling breath, rocking my hips slowly, slowly, then realising he wasnt quite reaching where I liked it, and I needed to go faster. _

"_Antonio..." his fingers kneeding my neck draged tides of hotness dripping both ways through me, a moment seeping down, another pouring up until it was a storm of heat inside my body, and he was blurring at the edges, dissolving lovingly into my hips._

"_Lovi..." he was gasping, pulling me down for an open mouthed kiss. "tell me you like it."_

"_I like it!" my fingers ripped at his hair, I bit his shoulder recklessly when his dick grated my prostate. Together our panting was probably audible all the way down the hall and in Feliciano's sie of the hosue. "Fuck Antonio I love it! Ah! Ahhh..."_

"_Good, keep going. Fuck Lovi... Lovi... Loviiiii~"_

_I shivered, edging closer toward my second release. My body weight on top of him restricted movement of his hips but also meant he couldnt pull out. I meant to make him cum inside of me. I wanted to have his cum in my body, filling me up drp to drop, and sinking me forever in the tumultuous ocean of lust and love..._

…

"… oh god Antonio, fill me, yes… oh yes… ahhhhh~"

A crash and a splash, I leapt up, hurriedly pulling my cum slicked hands out of my trousers, eyes snapping open, and sat up from my low slump in the chair. Since I had slipped into my fantasy, the sun had sunk lower in the sky, there was hardly any light now, and all that remained framed Antonio in gold, a halo, beautiful and godlike...

He had dropped the bucket of water on the porch in surprise. It puddle over the wood, and drenched the hem of his pants.

After ten seconds of unholy awkwardness, he spoke.

"I, uh, got the water?"

And that was about the second my dignity died.

...

Jada. Done. I dont own the characters in hetalia, and i dunno what is this just whatever. -.-

Please review? *review whore...*


	2. Chapter 2

**AS LONG AS I LIVE… I will never understand the pairing spainxGiant churro. And im not going to pretend I do, either.**

* * *

><p>Antonio edged around me a little bit angrily for the following week. Which wasn't unjustified, I suppose, but it still wasn't pleasant. Every time he glared at me, or his face coloured in my presence, only served to remind of the unfortunate occurrence on the porch, and it was, quite simply, <em>horrible.<em>

"Boss?"

"What?" I snapped, not willing to look up from my book and meet his accusing green eyes. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Well, I just I made some food. Did you want some?"

I gritted my teeth, and dared to raise my face.

He wore pauper's clothes, a tunic, loose trousers, and he looked tatty and out of place inside my house. There was a smear of dirt on his face, from where he had been gardening, his bare feet trailed over cool terracotta tiles and left damp marks glistening behind him. His hair was a mess, tied up still, framing a wonderful olive face that didn't at all look bright and friendly… and he really didn't look smiley. At all. He looked like I felt. Frustrated, and horribly, horribly ashamed for the both of us. At least he wasn't TOTALLY avoiding me.

"What is it then?"

"Tomato salad."

"Tomato salad?" my interested pricked. I couldn't tell if he was offering me my favourite on purpose or if it was an accident.

"Yes. And some _Arroz__ con__ leche_."

Whelp, he had me.

"Yeah, okay. That would be nice." I stood up and set my book down on the small table beside my chair. It was growing dark outside, so before following after him I shut the window, a small shiver running through me that wasn't on account of cold. Beyond the glass, the view was short and not so wondrous. Mostly just the rise of the hill backing my house, covered in wild plum trees which were by now pregnant with the luscious fruit that I recalled abstractly Antonio loved in jam, especially on warm bread for his breakfast. The smell of the fruit had curled in through the window frame and I left the room on a ghostly roll of it, pulling at the hem of my coarse cotton shirt a little in shame.

Antonio had set the table for both of us, as always, but for the first time since that awkward night. This seemed deliciously magnanimous. Significant. The rich smell of tomatoes and the strange dressing he made, with honey and oil and pepper, tingled on the back of my palate, and I found myself almost tasting it already.

Antonio made some of the most marvelously vibrant food. My brother was a great cook, and I too was pretty handy with simple, earthy food, but above all I loved eating what Antonio improvised, because there was something so colourful and raw about it that couldn't be described with words. When I sat down, the rough ceramic plate he had set in my place struck me as artistic. A mixture of tomatoes, embellished with lettuce, glistening with whatever he put on it, a side dish of small, cheese stuffed peppers, and an empty bowl for the rice, when I was ready for it.

"Is there meat?"

"Mm. Fish." He clattered around the table lighting the candles, once again as always but suddenly it seemed much more noteworthy with the uncomfortable atmosphere. "Hang on, it's still on the stove."

"Okay. Good boy." I bowed my head when he swept by me, back to the kitchen, to fetch the rest of the food and the wine, that I noticed was missing from the table. Usually, I would have stuck an order on the end of that, something like 'hurry up' or 'don't piss around', but tonight I didn't. I was too… well.

It sounded strange, too, but since the incident I hadn't at all been finding Spain less attractive. Not at all. In fact, of anything, I had begun seeing him as _more_ attractive. More lovely, more handsome, more powerful and sexy than I had first thought. I knew I should immediately put a stop to that, after all, I'm pretty sure if the pope found out he would be shitty, but I just couldn't. I simply couldn't. There was something horridly alluring about the wrongness of it, the line of his collar bone when he thought I wasn't looking and he flexed his arms just right, the crease in his shirt, where his rosary lay against a solid chest. I had a hard time not staring at his ass when he passed me by again, bearing the dish filled with steaming, fragrant fish meat and setting it down between where the two of us sat. It was like some kind of devils tool, sent down to lull a man into sin…

I tipped my head to the side and studied the pert swell when he bent over, setting a bottle of wine on the other side of the table.

Yes. Yes I could definitely believe that. And I could embrace it too. Sin was old news now… I was beginning to get over it. After all, men like DaVinci and Michelangelo posed convincing arguments. A little bit of lip service was fine, but I was at my age happy to not practice what I preached. Especially not when faced with Spain's taught, youthful ass.

"Um… boss?"

"Woah? Yeah? What? Hello."

I sat up immediately, and tried to look innocent as I could. Too late, he had caught me.

I had to stop doing that!

"… I uh… got a special wine this evening."

He didn't mention the staring, instead taking his seat opposite me and combing his fingers through rumpled hair.

"Oh yeah…"

"It's Spanish. And it's white, to go better with the fish."

Oh, okay." I cringed and stabbed a chunk of green tomato with my fork.

That was something remarkable about Antonio's tomatoes, they came in a huge variety of colours. I liked the green ones best. They were sweet, but not in the same way as red ones, and had a slightly firmer texture.

"You can… pour some if you want?"

"mm. okay." I reached for the dusty grey bottle, freshly uncorked and room temperature, and the wineglass on the table beside my plate. I needed both hands to pour, so I popped the forked tomato into my mouth and poured a dash of the fruity smelling, honey coloured wine into my glass and then his, before setting the bottle back down.

"Want to say grace then?" I asked, twinning my feet together beneath the table shyly. He cast me a small, stiff smile and dropped his eyes again, face distinctly pink in the low light.

"Sure, okay."

We bowed our heads.

"_Bendigamos al Señor y estos tus regalos, que estamos a punto de recibir de tu prima, por Cristo nuestro Señor, Amén."_

A small moment of silence between the grace and when the two of us reached for our forks once more.

Antonio ate like a ravenous pirate, with no grace whatsoever and little restraint. I was used to it by now, the way he (when he wasn't walking on eggshells) cheerfully tore into fish with his fingers and didn't hesitate to dissect his little chillipepper cheese things bit by bit, popping them open and licking out the cheese quite thoroughly before placing the rest on his tongue and reaching for the wine. I ate with a little more finesse, watching him secretively feeling deliciously perverted, for enjoying the way he licked the cheese out of those little green chillies.

I was startled when he sighed, and dropped the one he was working on back to his dish, brows creased in what may have been short patience.

"I can tell you're staring at me boss."

"What?" I feigned innocence, grabbing my wine and swallowing the whole glassful without even paying attention to the taste. "Why would I stare at you, little bastard."

"I don't know sir. Why would you…" he started quite hotly, but trailed off, clearly double thinking whatever it was he wanted to say.

I gritted my teeth.

"Why would I what?"

"Never mind."

"No, seriously. Why would I what?"

He sent me a scathing, awkward look, but said nothing. I scowled.

"How is it your business?"

"How is it not my business, Lovino?"

"Hey! It's boss to you, you little ingrate."

"I am not an ingrate!"

"You are too! You're a spoiled ingrate bastard. There, I said it."

I dropped my fork. It clattered to the table, the sound resounded in the stillness of the room and he positively glowered at me, frustrated pink on the height of his cheeks.

"I do your laundry!"

"And get fucking mud on it from your damn gardening hands."

"My damn gardening hands I'm sure you wouldn't be so opposed to if they were plastered all over your grumpy little body!" Antonio stood up, chair squeaking on the floor, wine glass jolting and sending splatters of twinkling alcohol across the wood tabletop. I jumped, taken aback, and balled my fists to resist the urge to throw tomatoes at him.

"How dare you-"

"No, boss, how dare you!" with a last vicious look I couldn't make sense of he flicked the wine bottle off the table, where it fell to the floor and clattered, then left the room.

I was alone with the candlelight and the luscious spread of food before me, the cloying scent of Spanish wine clouding my senses and judgement.

…/…

I managed to find another bottle of that wine in the kitchen when I was cleaning up, and drank my way through three glasses of it without even noticing what I was doing.

Antonio… I realised, when I went to pour myself another glass and it was practically all gone. I really should have asked Antonio first. It was his after all…

Fuck, Antonio.

Grumbling, I trekked out of the kitchen and felt my way, in the dark, through the house to where I knew Antonio should be asleep. I had a few choice words I needed to get said to that sexy son of a bitch, anyway. I could ask and tell at the same time, which is always convenient.

Antonio's heavy red door was ajar, and the weak light shivering from the crack told me he had at least one candle going, to scare away whatever monsters may lurk in the night. The light glimmered mutely on the shining red paint, and I was forcibly reminded of temptresses bearing red roses, the rampant lushness of youth.

"'Tonio!" I slammed open the door without warning and strode as best I could to his bedside. "Wake up you useless sack of sex. I wanna talk to you."

"Boss?" he seemed surprised to see me, sitting up in bed and looking like he had just seen a flying goat. "What the… what are you doing? Are you drunk?"

"Not really." I didn't feel drunk, anyway. I knew I probably should be, but honestly, all I was feeling in that moment was confidence. And attraction. Oh my yes, there was attraction. "Do I look drunk?" I set my hands on my hips and glared, silently demanding he say no. the arched eyebrows, however, coupled with the way his eyes skated up and down me, were an obvious yes. Oh well. Fuck him. Dumb bastard.

"Lovino, did you drink my wine…?"

"I'm fucking fine!" I told him, "and don't call me that!"

"You're so immature…"

"Hey! Shut up!" I huffed and shoved his shoulder roughly. "I so am not!"

"You are. And you're a childish drunk." He looked distinctly disgusted.

But besides his expression, oh god did naked Antonio in bed look good. Good, great, better than great. I was struck by this spectacular want to have him inside of me. The architecture of his slim muscles, the glimmer of his rich skin. He looked like the dessert to the dinner I never finished, the happy ending to that fantasy, the one where he devours me slowly, and reduces me to a desperate, slutty disgrace.

"fuck." I remarked forcibly, swaying a bit where I stood. "You're hot."

"… I'm what?"

"Kiss me you gorgeous bastard."

I had a split second between lunging for him and clapping his lips on mine to see his eyes widen and fix in horror on my face, we landed with a muffled thump on the mattress, sinking deeply into the down and feather he favoured over straw pellets. I missed his mouth at first, plastering an awkward kiss on his chin, but caught it eventually, wonderfully, when he opened his lips to complain.

It was a very flat, boring kiss, and I could taste my own mouth, and the alcohol on it, better than I could taste his own.

"Boss! What are you-"

"Shhh…" the covers rustled as I struggled to get comfortable atop his frantic body. "_España__…_"

He gasped, barely audibly, in surprise and I took the opportunity to kiss him again, a little more properly this time, with tongue and a trace of reciprocation in his part.

"Roma… Lovino…"

"Mmm?" I struck my fingers through his hair, the softness luxurious, the thickness heavenly. His feline features were laced into a cautious concern; fear ignited in dark eyes and it was cosy and warm against him, and arousing. He smelt amazing. Like sweat and earth and tomatoes.

"Call me-"

"… Lovi?"

"Yeah," I smiled a little, and grated my body against his. "Call me Lovi." I let my fingers roam freely, caressing the soft planes of his cheeks, gazing into bewildered, fearful eyes and seeing myself reflected back. The candle… I needed to get rid of the candle…

Speedy, driven by the want for sex that alcohol had inspired in me, I propped myself up, stuck my fingers in my mouth and wet them, before pinching out the small, golden flame with a hiss. It wasn't a far reach, just to his bedside, and there was hardly enough room for him to move at all before I was back on top, in the dark this time, and kissing his face anew. His fingers clawed into balls at my waist, pulling at my shirt questioningly. His sweet, freshly broken voice quivered when he whispered.

"Lovi… why are you doing this?"

"Because I like you…"

"Why do you like me?" he was whining now, beginning to sound rather upset about the whole affair. "I'm nothing special! And you're so much older and-"

"Shut up." I silenced him with my mouth. "Do as boss says or you are going to get in trouble."

And in the dark I could imagine him clearly, green eyes hugely wide in bemusement. His body was bigger than mine, I observed. When had that occurred?

"Boss…"

"Lovi."

"Lovi…"

"Mmm?" my hands cruised across his collar and up the sides of his neck. His rosary beads grated between us.

"Lovi I can't do this I won't fuck you."

"Tough." I gritted my teeth. The skin on the side of his neck was soft and lusciously perfumed. "You've been parading around my house like a stupid sexy little piece of whore for too long, and it's about time you get what you deserve."

He wiggled around beneath my teeth nipping at his earlobe, trying to push me off but no. none of that I forced him back. I could be surprisingly strong when necessary, and no amount of weak, stressful sounding pleas was going to put me back now. I needed his cock. And in a show of possessiveness, I jammed my hand between his legs and squeezed it, hard enough to feel his body jolt beneath me, his breath hitch and his heartbeat scream for a moment, against my own.

"Boss please…"

"No."

"Boss _please_."

The fierce urgency of it made me hesitate for a split second. Not for long, but long enough…

"_Boss,__ I__ want__ your __dick__…"_

Almost everything inside of me leapt at once. My heart, my stomach, my cock…

"What?"

"I said get off me!" gardeners hands pushed me away, he looked _pissed_. "You are so drunk!"

"Antonio…" I told him as soberly as I could. "I swear I am not even half not… I'm not… I have been drinking. But I am not drunk." Nodding, I pushed my hair off my face. "It's okay. You should just fuck me."

"Lovino…" he was looking at me as one might look at something a little nasty that had just trod on. "I really don't think…"

"But I want it!" I slapped my hands hard on his thighs and he inhaled sharply. "Antonio I really, really want it!"

He didn't say anything, and an unexplained wave of emotion swept over me temporarily. Sniffing, I lifted my hand to wipe at my suddenly teary eyes.

"I really want you…"

A soft sigh startled me. A hesitant touch on my cheek.

"Lovino Vargas…" his voice was patient, but weary. "You are absolutely the worst."

I don't remember so much after that.

../...

When I woke up in the morning, hung-over and sore, I was warm. In an unfamiliar bed, a soft one, and draped in heavy blankets and the warm arms of someone who smelled like earth and breathed softly, against my neck.

"Spain…" I mumbled peacefully, rolling onto my other side and pressing against his chest. "Spain… SPAIN?" I jumped, startling him from his sleep as well, and stared at him shocked eyed from above.

"What? What? WHAT?"

"Boss, calm down." He rubbed his eyes sleepily, frowning at me, "you came into my room utterly drunk last night and fell asleep. Its fine…"

"What do you mean 'fine?" I howled, grabbing my pillow and whacking him with it. "Taking advantage of a drunk like that! You pervert!"

The glare of incredulity I received for that one could have knocked out a cow.

"Lovino, you were the one who came in and tried to take advantage of me." He rolled his eyes, and flopped back into his pillows. "But whatever. I don't care…"

"You don't… what do you _mean_ you don't care?"

He shrugged. "I don't care. If you want to be a bratty pervert then fine, don't let me stop you."

And it was then that I understood that there was something wrong. Because _Antonio__ would__ never__ say __that_. Not normally, anyway.

I wasn't the best caregiver in the world, I'm the first to admit, but I'm not an idiot. And it didn't take a genius to figure out…

"Antonio… what's up?"

He glared at me sourly, bottom lip a little thrust out, and his eyes narrowed a crack in suspicion.

"What makes you think something is up?"

"You are acting really…" I pulled a face. "I don't even know, actually. But there's something wrong, what is it?"

He pulled his blanket up and glared at me over the top of it, clearly conflicted about whether or not he should say something, or leave it…

He went with say something. The mumbled 'you' took a while to register, and when it did I was taken by a stab of guilt. Me? What was wrong with _me_?

"What? What did I do?"

He shook his head, and rolled away from me. I swore under my breath and baled my fists.

I was no good with kinds, no good. And I fared hardly better with teenagers…

"Antonio, I know I make mistakes sometimes, and I'm sorry, but… you know you can tell me anything, right? I'm here to help." I touched his hair with a shaky hand, scolding myself internally into seeing him not as a sexy youth at all but the same sad little kid I caught sometimes with scraped knees in the garden, or beestings on his feet. He huffed, and I swore internally, wondering if maybe I should ask my brother for help. Antonio seemed to get along really well with him…

"You are an asshole." He told me shortly "and I'm scared because I like you but also I hate you and… I don't know. Leave me alone."

Well, I genuinely didn't know how to react to that. Antonio… _my_ Antonio.

I sniffed and jabbed him in the back with my foot.

"What do you mean, 'you like me'?" I asked. "You like me as in, you want to have sex with me or…"

"Is that all you think about?" came the response. "Sex?"

"What do you care what I think about?"

No reply.

I too, was a teenager once. I had in fact been only a teenager when I had first taken him on. He had been a child, spacey, sweet, affectionate… but also a right nasty piece of work when he didn't get his way. I remembered distinctly the time he and that kid of France's, England, had fought, and he had broken England's arm without batting an eyelid. He liked to play with swords, and he was much too fond of stabbing the ground with pitchforks than probably healthy, I maybe should have predicted that the day would come where he was no longer so stable, perhaps a little insane, and he would become much to big and independent to even give a glance to me. That day wasn't today, but the strangeness in his behaviour, and the huffiness… maybe it was a sign.

When I was sixteen, I remember wanting to put my dick in anything that breathed. It was not a good point in my life. Maybe sex was coming into it as well. Sex, and responsibility, and growing up, and…

Oh… I see.

I understood then, why he was so shitty. If sex really was the problem, then I suppose I really wasn't helping… at all.

"… Antonio?" I asked him cautiously, touching his shoulder. "Are you… having strange feelings lately?"

"No stranger than you." He snapped, and I swallowed.

"About me?"

"Does it matter who they are about? Its not right, anyway." He curled up, and my heart twinged in empathy.

"…" I traced my finger from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, and stroked there lightly. "Hey, Antonio, its alright, you know."

He grumbled something and I sighed.

"You know how I feel. Its okay if you want to…"

"It is not!"

"Why? I won't stop you."

"It's not right! You're my caregiver, you're a man. You're supposed to protect me from things like this!"

I puffed into my cheeks, a little bit of a verbal punch to my ego there, but I let it slide.

"Antonio, sometimes I forget how young you really are.

You know that when you're happy, and when you're working and being you, you act like such an adult, like a proper nation, like you don't need me at all for anything you do. You're always kind to everyone, even your enemies, but you are mad to fight when necessary to defend your nation or the people you care about. You act so big, that I just take it for granted you're an adult, who can feel the same things as me just as easily, and has also made decisions regarding his life and his direction from hereon in. but you haven't.

You are only young, you are still innocent, you still believe in a God who limits you for your own sake. You try to be alone and powerful, but you must be scared inside. You pretend like you don't feel things like hurt or lust, because it's not gracious, and it's not innocent and entirely good. You're still struggling to embrace the fact life is not always black and white, sometimes its grey, and you will never be as pure and carefree as you were when you were a child again."

He sniffed moodily, and I lay down beside him, winding my arms around his waist.

"But its okay. Because I'm here. And I love you. Not just as a ward, or a flunky, but in a different way. In a way you might not understand for a few years yet. I don't regret that because its just how it is, and I welcome any premature or undeveloped feelings you might have for me because maybe, one day, they will grow into a mirror of what I feel, myself for you.

You bastard." I added on the end, for good measure.

And for some reason I couldn't make sense of… he laughed. When I made that little remark, he actually laughed, a soft, light laugh, and I relaxed a little, though neither of us moved.

That afternoon, he made us fish for dinner, and we ate it holding hands on the porch.

* * *

><p><strong>okay, no sex in this chapter. xD but this fic is now ongoing. its not gunna be long or anything, but there it is. ^^ for the sake of<strong> **Domomomo**, **mkay~**

i... i think it was this fic you wanted? O.o if not, let me know, and i will correct it.

i dont own hetalia... etc.


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